Rest in Peace

When I was at the park, a friend was telling me about her son having to go to first communion class.  I told her this was one of things I liked least about my Lutheran upbringing.  I had a flash to what I figured is the best first communion story.

My youngest child had been going up to the Communion Rail with me since she was born, actually before.  When she was about 18 months old, I went up to the rail holding her in my right arm.  I decided to stand and hold out my left hand to receive the Host.  As I reached out my hand, she also reached out her hand.  The Priest looked at me and whispered, is it ok?  I nodded my consent and he gave it to her.  She was a child.  I believe that children are far more capable of understanding the Sanctity of the Eucharist than adults.  She was at the table, and she wanted to eat.

I don't know how most clergy would have handled the situation.  I am eternally grateful that this Priest handled it perfectly.  I shudder to think what it would have done to my child's spirit to be refused.  This was one of my favorite encounters with Father Maltby.

Over the many months and years that our church struggled through change and lack of growth, my relationship with this man would become very different.  I am very sorry and sad for this change, especially since he died recently.  Since I am still not allowed to attend church there, I was not in a position to say good bye.  This was very hard on me.  I'm not sure how to grieve this person.  It is very complicated.  I wish we had been able to work toward reconciliation.

I felt pretty bad about all of this and took my worries to my Spiritual Director.  Her advice is simple "focus on the good things, don't forget the bad things."  I'm allowing myself (maybe even begging myself) to focus on the good things.  This memory of a first Communion is a perfect example of the good things.  I won't forget the bad things, I learned too many lessons.  One last lesson that I am learning is how to process complicated grief.  It is a kind of grief that seems to bubble over with all sorts of extra, complicated memories.  For me, it was almost like volcano erupting.  It spewed ash all over things.  Things are starting to settle down, and I'm glad to start seeing the good again.  My hope is that this man will Rest in Peace.  He deserves it.